All Around Us
by Tori Stone
Summary: "The music is all around us. All you have to do...is listen." - HIATUS
1. Vanilla Twilight

**I've been wanting to write this one for a few weeks now, and I'm just getting the time to get my ideas out of my head. Don't worry, I know I'm still working on those other three, but I'm adding this to the list. It's my personal project.**

**I'm really pleased with how this chapter came out. Not gonna lie. :D I hope you guys like it as much as I do! (:**

**I don't want to give anything about this one away yet...this is already shaping up to be one of my favorites that I've written so far! All I'm going to say is...if you like music...you'll like this one. Hopefully.**

**I don't own Danny Phantom or anything else you might recognize ;)**

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><p><strong>All Around Us<strong>

**Chapter 1: **Vanilla Twilight

**December 22, 2011**

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><p><em>I was born with music inside me. Music was one of my parts. Like my ribs, my kidneys, my liver, my heart. Like my blood. It was a force already in me when I arrived on the scene. It was a necessity to me - like food or water.<em>

_- Ray Charles_

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><p>Samantha Manson was NOT a musician. Animal rights activist, absolutely. Ultra-recyclo vegetarian, incredibly so. Goth, sure. But musician? No. Absolutely not. Not in any world. Not even a little.<p>

...okay, well, _maybe_ a little. Her mother's closet was cluttered with tubs of old instruments, including a chipped ukulele with only one string just barely connected, a rather dinged up rainbow xylophone with one tattered mallet, and an electronic keyboard that had definitely seen better days. Home videos showing Sam at various young ages banging on a grand piano and wailing tunelessly along, followed quickly by enthusiastic applause, joined said instruments. Tattered papers bearing nonsensical lyrics written in five-year-old scrawl littered the bottoms of each tub.

...alright, maybe _more_ than a little.

But that was in the past. Sam was NOT a musician. No way.

She decided to quit her piano lessons (which she had been taking since the age of five) when she was fourteen, and nearly had a stroke when her father had suggested guitar lessons as a replacement. Choir, band, and orchestra made her nauseus, and nothing put her in a worse mood than musicals. I mean, really, who sings about singing in the rain? How about catching a cold in the rain? Or crashing your car in the rain? You don't see normal people with normal brains singing and dancing in the rain merely for the sake of singing and dancing. Honestly. Grow a brain cell.

Now, of course, she was not opposed to listening to music. But only _real_ music, like Evanescence, Avril Lavigne (BEFORE she got popular with that piece of crap song she called Girlfriend) or Linkin Park. Not the crap that they play on the radio, no. That was just bubble gum pop specifically created for morons like Paulina who had no taste or personality.

I'm sure you're wondering why on earth I've gone into such detail describing Sam's loathing of music. Don't worry, it's important. You'll see.

On the morning of September 16th, Sam awoke at 7:04 on the dot. She rolled to one side and swatted blindly at her alarm clock, groaning when the shrill alarm seemed only to grow louder despite her attempts at shutting it up. Once she had successfully turned it off, she rolled out of bed and attempted to rub the sleep out of her eyes before shuffling across her bedroom floor. She pushed the door open and trudged down the hall and down the stairs. She seized her toast from the plate her parents' personal chef had prepared for her, shoved it in her mouth, and trudged back up the stairs with the bread clamped between her teeth. Once she was inside her room again, she shut the door and leaned against it, chewing her toast rather mindlessly.

As the morning progressed, Sam seemed to wake up more. She dressed in her usual drab, fixed her hair her normal way, had her daily argument with her mother regarding her fashion choices, and did her usual make up. All things considered, it was turning out to be a pretty good way to start her day.

At 7:46, Sam was skipping down the stairs, humming quietly to herself. Wait, humming? She hit the bottom of the stairs hard, blinking and shaking her head._ No humming. No stupid music._

She grabbed her car keys, shouted her farewells to her parents and the help, and slammed the door behind her. The sun was shining, the air was clean and brisk. It was windows rolled down, convertable top down weather. It was going to be a good day.

Her ride to school was uneventful. A squirrel narrowly escaped with its' life on 5th Street, but luckily Sam saw it before the worst could happen. Dash blasted past her in his huge earth-destroying candy-apple red F150 on Parks Avenue, honking and shouting rude explitives to her out his open window, to which Sam replied with a friendly smile and choicy hand gesture. The Box Ghost swooped down from on high on her Mustang as she turned on Ravensway, shouting for her to "Beware!" before being caught with a scream in the tractor beam of a Fenton Thermos. Sam smiled and waved to the ghost boy on the other end of the Thermos as she drove by, knowing she would see said boy's alter ego in a matter of minutes.

All in all, a normal ride to school.

She pulled into her usual parking spot, between Tucker and Valerie. Valerie's white Ford Explorer was already in its' usual spot, though the owner had already gone inside. Tucker leaned against the hood of his tan Jeep Grand Cherokee, absorbed in his PDA. He looked up when Sam pulled in, squinting at the morning sun reflected from the metal of her recently-washed, coal black Mustang.

"Morning," He yawned when she climbed out.

"Morning." She chuckled, popping her trunk. She closed her door and walked to the open trunk, pulling her backpack out as Tucker followed.

"Is the coast clear?" A familiar whisper called from the other side of Sam's Mustang. Sam and Tucker glanced around the empty parking lot.

"You're good." Tucker called. Danny appeared, grinning goofishly. He brushed a few stray hairs out of his eyes, glancing back and forth between his two best friends.

"Close call there with the Box Ghost," He chuckled, his twinkling cobalt eyes on Sam as she slammed her trunk closed and locked her car. She rolled her eyes.

"I bet he would have a heart attack if anyone was ever actually afraid of him," She muttered, hiking her backpack higher up her shoulder. "When are you ever gonna get a car?"

"_Why_ do I need a car?" Danny asked, sounding slightly exasperated. "You and Tucker both have cars."

"Oh, so we're your personal chauffers now?" Sam asked sarcastically, though she smiled good-naturedly.

"No, I mean y'all have cars to drive in case of an emergency. I can fly. Flying is _way _faster and _way_ more fun, anyways."

"You don't know what you're missing out on," Tucker sang as they began making their way toward the school.

"Actually, I do," Danny countered. "I'm missing out on spending two hundred and forty bucks a _month_ on gas,"

"That's only if you get a gas guzzler like Tucker's crap-mobile," Sam said.

"Sheila is not a crap-mobile!" Tucker cried indignantly. He glanced over his shoulder at his car, as if ensuring that it had not heard Sam's comment and run away.

"If you get a hybrid, it's way less. Trust me. I drove that Prius for a while, remember? I think I only ever spent like...one-twenty a month on gas, and that was at the most."

"Oh, that makes it better," Danny said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. They were in the school by then, walking toward their homeroom. "I'm not getting a car any time soon, okay?"

"I don't think I've ever known _anyone_ who actually _didn't_ want a car," Sam said as they entered their homeroom. They paused as they shuffled down the rows of desks toward their seats in the back corner of the room. "Really, I don't."

"Well, there's a first for everything," Danny grinned. They were settled by then; Sam lounged in the desk pushed furthest to the corner, Tucker fiddled with his concealed PDA beside her, while Danny turned to face her from the desk in front of hers. He was still turned toward her, grinning like an idiot, when Mr. Lancer walked in.

"Good morning class." He called tonelessly.

"Good morning, Mr. Lancer." The class droned. Danny turned and straightened up.

"Miss Manson, may I speak with you out in the hall for a moment?"

Sam blinked, caught off guard. "Um, sure." She stood and shuffled past Danny, glancing over her shoulder and answering his _What does he want?_ face with an _I have no idea..._ face of her own.

"You're not in trouble." Mr. Lancer said as soon as the door shut behind her. She nodded. "There seems to have been a bit of a discrepincy with your grade on the most recent test we took in English."

"Oh? What kind of discrepincy?" Sam asked nervously.

"You sit beside Paulina Sanchez in class, don't you?" Mr. Lancer asked, casting a curious eye down on the dark-haired girl.

"Yes."

"She copied your test. Answer for answer. At first, I gave you both zeroes, but as I thought about it, I realized that there was no way you would have helped her. I can tell how much you detest the girl." Sam grinned in spite of herself. She always knew there was a reason Lancer was her favorite teacher. "If you want your correct grade, drop by the auditorium after school. We're beginning preperations for the Battle of the Bands today, and as I am in charge this year," He shivered, as if the prospect of organizing fifty whining hormonal musicians was a daunting task for a middle-aged English teacher to take on.

"Sure thing, Mr. Lancer," Sam chuckled. "I'll be by around 3:30."

"I'll see you then."

The rest of Sam's day was exceedingly normal. She snored through calculus, watched an incredibly interesting video in psychology that discussed the effects of manic bi-polar disorder (the woman in the video that protrayed a manic bi-polar strangly resembled Sam's mother), and carefully constructed a scale-sized model of the Sharon Tate crime scene in her forensic science class, complete with fake blood. By the time lunch rolled around, Sam was absolutely starving; she scarfed down her salad and drained her water bottle in ten minutes, a new personal best. She used the rest of her half-hour lunch period studying for her government exam with Danny and Tucker, which would be happening in the period after lunch. Government came and went, and then she was in English, carefully reciting prose from Much Ado About Nothing. Mr. Lancer gave her an approving smile when she finished.

After English, Sam recieved an urgent text from Danny. She skipped economics to help him and Tucker rope in Technus behind the school, and made it back just in time for gym, her last class of the day. After breezing through a mile-long jog, she showered and changed. Her day was over.

Well..._almost_ over. She still needed to swing by the auditorium to pick up her freshly graded test from Mr. Lancer, and then she was free to meet Danny and Tucker at the Nasty Burger for their usual post-school rendez-vous. She took her time walking to the auditorium, not feeling any rush.

The doors to the auditorium were closed, but not locked. She cautiously opened one and stuck her head inside. The debris of sets from plays past littered the stage; it was obvious that no one really cleaned it until it was about time for that years' play. A lone grand piano stood rather lop-sidedly to the left side of the stage, looking as if plenty of sets had come crashing down on it in years past. There did not appear to be anyone in the auditorium.

"Mr. Lancer?" She called, stepping into the auditorium. Her voice echoed against the empty stage, jumping back toward her rather creepily. "I'm here to pick up my test..."

There was no response. Sam stood there for a moment longer, before dropping her bag. She walked slowly toward the stage, her eyes on the piano. For some reason, she felt the urge to play. Maybe it was because there was no one around. Maybe it was because the piano just looked like it desperately needed a loving caress on its' chipped ivory keys. Perhaps it was because the urge to play was always there, buried deep inside her, and she was finally giving in.

Whatever the reason, she was drawn to it. Climbed the steps to the stage slowly, her eyes never leaving the piano. She stopped a few feet away from it, her hand outstretched, itching to touch the keys. She hesitated. She glanced around. There was no one else there.

She crossed the distance between herself and the piano in a few short strides. Before she was really aware of what she was doing, she was settled on the bench, her fingers already stroking the keys. After one more glance around the auditorium, she began to play. Softly, but steadily, she picked the notes of a song she'd heard once. Vanilla Twilight. It had reminded her of Danny.

Her fingers slowed, the music fading. What were the lyrics again? Oh yeah! The music became louder. _The stars lean down to kiss you, as I lie awake and miss you. Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere. 'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly, but I'll miss your arms around me. I'd send a postcard to you dear, 'cause I wish you were here._

Slowly, the realization that she was singing dawned on her. But she was so wrapped up in the music, she didn't care.

"_And I'll watch the night turn light blue,_

_But it's not the same without you_

_Because it takes two to whisper quietly._

_The silence isn't so bad,_

_'Til I look at my hands and feel sad_

_'Cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly._

_I'll find repose in new ways_

_Though I haven't slept in two days,_

_'Cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone._

_But drenched in vanilla twilight,_

_I'll sit on the front porch all night_

_Waist-deep in thought because when I think of you, I don't feel so alone._

_I don't feel so alone._

_I don't feel so alone._

_As many times as I blink, I'll think of you, tonight._

_I'll think of you tonight._

_When violet eyes get brighter_

_And heavy wings grow lighter_

_I'll taste the sky and feel alive again_

_And I'll forget the world that I knew_

_But I swear I won't forget you_

_Oh if my voice could reach back through the past, I'd whisper in your ear:_

_Oh darling I wish you were here._"

She continued playing for several more moments, before finally tapering off. She grinned from ear to ear in spit of herself, feeling happier than she'd felt in a long time.

That is, until a quiet one-man applause from behind her scared her half to death (no pun intended).

"Bravo, Miss Manson," Mr. Lancer smirked.

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><p><em>I was born with music inside me. Music was one of my parts. Like my ribs, my kidneys, my liver, my heart. Like my blood. It was a force already in me when I arrived on the scene. It was a necessity to me - like food or water.<em>

_- Ray Charles_

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><p><strong>For reference, the song <em>Vanilla Twilight<em> is by Owl City. Absolutely brilliant man, he is.**

**So...what did you guys think? Review, let me know! I'm so curious to see how you guys are gonna like this (:**

**OH and the title/description is from a movie called _August Rush. _The description is a quote at the end of the main musical piece at the end of the movie. (:**

**Thanks for reading! Stay tuned! (:**

**- Tori**


	2. Bunnies Are More Magical Than Blue

**This is starting to shape up. There's gonna be a twist that NONE of y'all see coming.**

**Although, for those of you who have caught on to my style, you _might_ see it coming.**

**But I highly doubt it.**

**We'll see.**

**I don't own Danny Phantom.**

**Enjoy (:**

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><p><strong>All Around Us<strong>

**Chapter Two: **Bunnies Are More Magical Than Blue

**December 29, 2011**

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><p><em>Music is the movement of sound to reach the soul for the education of its virtue.<em>

_- Plato_

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><p>"Mr. Lancer!" Sam exclaimed. She leapt away from the piano as if it was burning her skin. "When did you get in here?"<p>

"A while ago," he shrugged. "You're very good." He added, gesturing to the piano.

Sam felt her face heating up. "S'not that big of a deal..." She mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, but it is," Mr. Lancer said seriously. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone as good as you play that piano before. It's handled rough abuse, as you can tell." His eyes lingered on the scratched lid. It was in serious need of a new paint job, he decided. "You're incredibly talented. Have you ever considered going into music as a career?"

Sam felt her throat closing. "U-um, no." She choked. She shook her head vigorously. "I don't really like music all that much."

"Really?" Mr. Lancer asked. "Hm...well, for what it's worth, you'd make an incredible musician."

"Thanks. So, do you have my test?" Sam asked quickly, eager to change the subject.

Wordlessly, Mr. Lancer handed her the test. Her eyes darted to the large "77%" written in red on the top right hand corner of the page, and immediately her heart sank.

"Um, Mr. Lancer? Are you sure this is the correct grade?" Sam asked, offering the page back to him. "I studied really hard for this and I thought I did really well..."

"You struggled a bit with the overall concept of _Montana 1948_." He said, his eyes skimming the page.

"Oh," She glanced down at the page again. "It's just that...I needed a ninety-one to get an A in your class...I have A's in all my other classes...um, is there any extra credit you could offer me?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Manson, but I can't offer you any. Believe me, I want to, but if I offer you extra credit, I'll have to offer it to the rest of my classes...and not all of them are quite as deserving as you. I'm very sorry."

"That's alright," Sam mumbled, feeling her shoulders slump. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Lancer."

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Manson." Mr. Lancer said, watching her jump from the stage. She trudged slowly to the entrance to the auditorium, pausing briefly to pick up her bag and shove the papers in, before making her exit. Mr. Lancer continued standing where she left him, his eyes darting back and forth between the doors Sam had just left through and the piano she had just created some of the most beautiful music he had ever heard on. An idea was forming in his sharp mind. He would need permission from the principal, of course, but that would be easily accquired...and after that, all he would need to do is convince Miss Manson...

Ten minutes later, Sam was parking in an empty spot outside the Nasty Burger. She could already see Danny and Tucker inside, both of them waiting for her. Tucker spotted her as she climbed out of her car.

"There you are!" He exclaimed when she was inside. "What took you so long?"

"I had to drop by the auditorium to pick up my english test from Mr. Lancer," She said, her eyes on the table.

"Everything alright?" Danny asked, picking up on her down mood.

"Yeah, it's just...I made an seventy-seven on that test."

"And that's bad because...?"

"I needed a ninety-one to get an A, which would make me have straight A's." She said, sinking lower into her seat. "I already asked if he could offer me any extra credit, and he said no."

"That sucks," Danny said sympathetically, reaching across the table to gently pat her intertwined hands. She smiled up at him gratefully, doing her best to ignore the surge of warmth that erupted in her body.

"I'll live," She shrugged. He smiled and retracted his hand, leaving hers feeling oddly colder than before.

"Awesome. Can we eat now? I'm starved!" Tucker said, eyeing the menu.

"Tuck, lunch was two hours ago."

"Exactly!"

After they had eaten, they went their seperate ways; Tucker was headed back to his house for dinner, while Sam had agreed to give Danny a ride home.

"You wouldn't ever have to ask anyone to give you a ride if you had your own car," Sam snickered from the driver's seat.

"You're just never gonna let that die, are you?" Danny asked.

"Probably not." Sam laughed.

"What else happened in the auditorium?" Danny asked offhandedly, staring out the window. Sam glanced at him, wondering how he knew.

"Um, nothing, really. Mr. Lancer was talking about how he really didn't want to organize Battle of the Bands this year. That's all."

Danny turned and stared at her, as if trying to find a hint of dishonesty. Sam kept her eyes on the road, praying that her face wasn't giving anything away. Apparently, it didn't, because Danny turned back to facing the windshield looking satisfied.

"Sounds like fun." He said finally, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Yeah, no, not really," Sam chuckled. "God, I'd hate to be in a stupid band."

"You _really_ don't like music, do you?"

"I find it disturbing that you even have to ask that question to me anymore. Of _course_ I don't like music."

"Why?"

Sam thought. _Why don't I like music again?_ "It's just...music has kind of died. There aren't really any good musicians around anymore. Music has no heart, no soul anymore. Music died." She repeated. She could feel Danny watching her thoughtfully. "I mean, don't get me wrong, there are still a few acceptable songs out there. But...for the most part..."

"I get it," Danny said. "Nowadays, music is kind of...nonsense. Like, there's no meaning behind it."

"Exactly!" They were in front of Danny's house now; Sam put the car in park and idled. "I hate it."

"Well, that makes sense," Danny said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "It's too bad, you look like you'd be a good singer."

Sam blushed. "Um...thank you?"

"It's a compliment, trust me," Danny laughed, climbing out of her car. She popped the trunk so that he could get to his backpack. "I'll see you tomorrow!" He called as he walked up the front steps to his house.

"See ya!" Sam called as he closed the door behind himself.

Later that evening, after Sam had gotten home, she locked herself in her bedroom with the trunks full of her musical past. She read over each lyric sheet, laughing at some of the random phrases she had come up with ("teapots are the most wonderful things in the world" and "bunnies are more magical than blue" to name a few) in her younger years. The electric keyboard had long-since ran out of battery power; she plucked the single string of the ukulele, smiling fondly at the worn sound it made. She fell asleep with a smile on her face that night watching old videos of herself performing various children's songs.

The next morning went much like the first, besides Sam tripping over one of the tubs that was still pulled up beside her bed. She hummed quietly to herself as she dressed that morning; her mother poked her head around the corner and smiled at the obvious chipper her daughter had. Their argument was skipped that morning, putting Sam in an even better mood that morning than the last.

"It's not that I think we should keep trying to map out the rest of the Ghost Zone," Danny was explaining later that morning as the trio walked to homeroom. "It's just that I don't think you guys should come with me anymore."

"And your reason for that is..." Sam prompted him.

"It's starting to get more and more dangerous! I mean, we're past Clockwork's tower now. There's absolutely no telling what's beyond Clockwork."

"How do we even know that the Ghost Zone has an end?" Tucker asked quizzically. "It's supposed to be a mirror of our universe. Our universe has no end, it's constantly expanding. The Ghost Zone could very well be the exact same thing."

"The only way to find out is to keep investigating," Danny shrugged. "Which I will do by myself."

"You have such a hero complex," Sam muttered as they entered their homeroom.

"What do you mean?" Danny asked sharply as they sat in their respective desks.

"You're so afraid of something happening to people that you take all the responsibility of protecting everyone on by yourself," Sam said shortly. "You need to learn to let other people help you."

"I would feel terrible if anything happened to you or Tucker out there," Danny said quietly, glancing between his two best friends. "Especially since I have a say in the matter."

Mr. Lancer had entered at that point. Danny shot Sam one last meaningful glance before turning to face the front.

"Miss Manson, a word?" Mr. Lancer asked without addressing the class. Sam felt the blood rush to her face as she stood. She avoided eye contact as she shuffled down her row and followed Mr. Lancer out into the hallway for the second day in a row.

"Miss Manson, I would like to offer you extra credit," Mr. Lancer said when she had joined him in the hallway.

She felt her heart leap. "Really?" She asked hopefully. "What would I have to do?"

"Compete in Battle of the Bands."

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><p><em>Music is the movement of sound to reach the soul for the education of its virtue. <em>

_- Plato_

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><p><strong>Hehe. So fun.<strong>

**Stay tuned for more!**

**And if y'all haven't checked my other story, Darkness, out yet, go read it. It's my brainchild right now. Although, this one is gettin gmore and more fun (:**

**And I know I have those other two to work on.**

**Blah.**

**I'll get there when I get there!**

**Thanks for dealing with my randomness.**

**I'm listening to ABBA.**

**:D**

**- Tori**


	3. Straight No Chaser

**And...viola!**

**Chapitre tres (:**

**For those of you who are involved in any kind of acapella group, THIS MESSAGE IS FOR YOU: I DO NOT think that acapella is dorky. At all. In fact, I kind of love acapella. ESPECIALLY Straight No Chaser, after whom this chapter is named XD If you don't know who Straight No Chaser is, go you YouTube and type in "Straight No Chaser 12 Days of Christmas"**

**High-larious.**

**LOVE THEM.**

**Okay. Disclaimers. I do not own any of the following:**

**1) Danny Phantom**

**2) _Ivey and the Airship _by Cheryl Ammeter (WHO IS A FABULOUS AUTHOR. I KNOW HER. I LOVE HER.)**

**3) Straight No Chaser**

**4) Anything else you recognize (besides my style (swag!))**

**I think that's everything. Hm.**

**Yup. That's everything.**

**Hehe, I just used swag in a sentence.**

**Enjoy (:**

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><p><strong>All Around Us<strong>

**Chapter Three: **Straight No Chaser

**January 4, 2012**

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><p><em>Music can change the world because it can change people.<em>

_- Bono_

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><p>"Are you telling me that you seriously want me to compete in Battle of the Bands for extra credit?"<p>

"Well, not compete. Win."

"I'm _not_ doing that," Sam said pointedly.

"It's the only way you can get your extra credit," Mr. Lancer said, raising his eyebrows.

"I thought you had to offer extra credit to the whole class," Sam retorted.

"I do. And I will. As soon as I finish here. I wanted to offer it to you first."

"Why?"

"Because you are a fantastic musician, Miss Manson," Sam rolled her eyes. "You are. Believe me. You could make a real difference on the quality of music that would be presented during that blasted competition. You have a very good chance of winning."

Sam stared at him. "I'm not in a band."

"So create one."

"I don't know any musicians! Jesus, the only people I hang out with around here are Danny and Tucker, and trust me, neither of them can carry a tune in a bucket. I know, I've played Rock Band with them before." Mr. Lancer shivered. "I'm sorry. But no."

"Miss Manson...please?"

Sam heaved a heavy sigh. "I wouldn't even know where to begin finding a band..."

"There are always solo musicians who show up to the preliminary sign-ups. Just...find a group there," Mr. Lancer shrugged. "With your voice and your piano skills, you'll carry whatever group you end up in."

She rolled her eyes. "So I'm just gonna show up, point to the first people I see and say 'Hey, you, you're in my band!' You honestly think that's going to work?"

"It has in the past," Mr. Lancer smiled. "I need to return to class. Feel free to stay out here and think about it as long as you like. As soon as you return, I'll inform the rest of the class." And with that, he was gone.

Sam leaned back against the wall. She rolled her head backwards and closed her eyes.

_I can't be in a band!_

_But I need that extra credit...there's no way Penn State is gonna accept me if I have even _ONE_ B..._

She groaned. Penn State was her dream. She had decided long ago that she would do whatever was necessary to gain admittance. If Battle of the Bands was what it took...

She slipped back into the classroom and slunk back to her desk. She ignored the gazes of her classmates as she reclaimed her seat.

"What did he want now?" Danny whispered. He had swiveled around in his seat, his eyebrows knit together with concern.

"Mr. Fenton! If I may have just one second of your prescious attention," Danny whipped around in his seat, his face blushing a deep crimson. Mr. Lancer's eyes locked with Sam's. She gave him the slightest nod.

Mr. Lancer's face split into a huge grin. "Class, I wanted to make an announcement concerning Battle of the Bands. I am offering extra credit to any person in my English classes who wins the competition this year,"

A low murmur broke out among Sam's classmates. She shrunk down in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest and praying that Tucker and Danny wouldn't notice her sudden blush.

But they didn't. "Dude, we could _totally_ make a band! I could use some extra credit!" Tucker whispered excitedly.

"Have you really forgotten about Ember's concert?" Danny whispered back, rolling his eyes. "You suck. And Sam hates music. Not exactly the best background for musicians."

Sam winced in silence.

"Uh, Mr. Lancer?" Dash asked. "Exactly how much extra credit are you planning on giving?"

Mr. Lancer smirked. "However much it takes to get the winner an A."

There was a moment of complete and utter silence, before absolute chaos broke out. "Sign me up!" People were shouting.

_Great_, Sam thought.

Mr. Lancer gave her a nearly imperceptible wink.

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><p>"So, Danny, are you signing up for Battle of the Bands?" Tucker asked when they were settled in the cafeteria.<p>

"I don't know," He said thoughtfully, picking up his quesidilla and eyeing it suspiciously. "Sometimes I think these things are alive."

Sam snorted into her salad. "That's because most of the time, they are," She said, lazily pointing at it with her fork.

"Seriously, though, guys," Tucker said, ignoring their sudden off-topic conversation. "I need extra credit. I want to make a band and try out. Will you guys join me?"

"Sorry, anti-music," Sam said, not glancing up from her salad.

"Stage fright," Danny shrugged. "Maybe next time."

"Or not," A voice said behind Sam. She whipped around and found Elliot crouched down beside her. His face was just inches from hers; she jerked back in suprise.

"Elliot?" Sam half-shouted, half-gasped. She stared at him a moment longer before regaining her composure. "Wow, you must have one _hell_ of a pair of balls to actually think you can talk to me."

He smirked. "Oh trust me, I do. You can check if you want," He wiggled his eyebrows at her in what she assumed he thought to be a sexy way. She had to fight the urge to laugh in his face.

"Barf, I'll pass." She said coolly. "Did you come over here for a reason other than insulting yourself by thinking you were actually good enough to be talking to me? Or did you just want to destroy your humongous ego?"

He laughed, unphazed by her comments. "I actually _did_ have an ulterior motive for crashing your little lunch...party," He cast a disdainful glance at Danny and Tucker over his shining black sunglasses. "I heard Lancer was giving extra credit to whoever the winners of Battle of the Bands are. I'm in a little all-male acapella group. Actually, I'm the lead," He flashed a blinding smile at her. She suddenly thought of a cartoon character baring its' teeth. She snorted involuntarily. "I know, I know, it sounds kind of dorky, but trust me. We're really good. We kind of sound like Straight No Chaser, to give you a reference."

"I have no idea what the hell Straight No Chaser is, nor do I have any interest in learning. Did you have a point?" She asked impatiently.

"I did, as a matter of fact," He grinned again. "I was wondering if you would like to be a guest singer with us in the competition?"

She couldn't stop herself this time; she laughed in his face. "I would rather eat an entire cow." She choked through her laughs.

That seemed to wipe the grin directly off Elliot's face. "Think about it." He said quietly, slipping a card bearing his phone number under her salad bowl. He stood and walked directly out of the cafeteria without a backwards glance.

"That was so weird," Sam sighed as she turned back to Danny and Tucker. She blinked in confusion as she took in Danny's appearence: he was hunched over his plate, his hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles were white. His lips were pressed into a hard white line and a muscle in his jaw was twitching. Tucker was leaning away from him fearfully. "Why so tense?" Sam asked, a single thin eyebrow cocked.

"I'm not tense." He muttered through gritted teeth.

"Then why are you choking your quesidilla?" She asked teasingly. He glanced down and realized that the tortillas had nearly been ripped to shreds, allowing bits of chicken and sauce to pour over his fingers. He dropped the remains of his food on his plate and quickly wiped his hand off. Sam giggled behind her hand.

"That _was_ really weird," Tucker said slowly, casting wary glances at Danny as he sat up straight again. "Totally out of the blue."

"I know," She said quietly. She had picked up his card and was turning it over in her fingers thoughtfully. "I'm gonna keep this," She said.

Danny froze. "Why?" He asked a little too sharply.

"Um, hello? Perfect pranking information?" She waved the card in front of his face. "We're never gonna have an opportunity like this again!"

He relaxed. "Oh, yeah. Pranking. Duh," He pretended to smack himself in the forehead, earning another appreciative laugh from Sam.

* * *

><p>That night, Sam tossed and turned in her bed. She could not stop thinking about Elliot's offer to allow her in his band - <em>no<em>_, wait, his gay-boy choir_. It seemed to be the perfect opportunity to get in the competition without really having to try. Of course, she would have to fend off Elliot's irratating attempts to win her heart, but that was easy enough. He would get like that occasionally, suddenly resume his romantic pursual of Sam. Once, he even tried to win her over by pretending to be Gregor again - which earned him a solid kick where the sun don't shine. Sam smiled fondly at the memory.

_Is this the answer, then? Just suck it up and join his stupid choir?_

_...no, there's _GOT_ to be something better out there. Anything, really. Even Tucker's better than Elliot._

Falling asleep was easy after that decision. She would refuse Elliot's offer and let the dice fall where they may.

* * *

><p>Sign-up for preliminary auditions were the following day after school. Sam sat in her car outside of the auditorium, waiting for the majority of the people signing up had left. The fewer people who knew she was auditioning, the better, she decided.<p>

Finally, with five minutes left until sign-up officially closed, Sam bolted from her car. She ran inside, wind-swept and slightly breathless.

The foyer of the auditorium was nearly empty. Mr. Lancer stood behind a folding table, his arms crossed, as an odd-ball group of three teenage boys milled about in front of him. Sam recognized one of the boys as a classmate in her forensic science class, but she could not remember his name. At the sound of her enterence, though, the entire group looked up. One boy's eyes widened - in fear or in wonder, Sam couldn't tell.

"Miss Manson, so glad you made it!" Mr. Lancer said loudly. She winced.

"Will you keep it down? I don't want everyone to know I'm doing this yet."

"Um, S-Sam? Sam Manson?" The boy with the wide eyes asked timidly. He was tall, awkwardly so, but appeared to be sturdily built. His rusty ginger hair caught her eye and held it for a moment, only to lose her attention to the flash of his wire glasses in the sunlight.

"Yeah?" She answered uncertainly.

"Do you...um, I mean, we...we're a band, and...well...we were looking for a lead singer...and Mr. Lancer said that you can sing really well," Sam shot the teacher the dirtiest look she could muster, which he answered with a slick grin. "We...we were wondering if...you'd be interested in being our lead singer?" His last words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam asked.

"We were wondering if you'd be interested in being our lead singer," He said more slowly. He appeared to be terrified.

_Anthing is better than Elliot_. "Yeah. Yes, absolutely."

He grinned from ear to ear. "Awesome!" He turned to Mr. Lancer. "We have a lead singer!"

"I heard," Mr. Lancer said. "If you would sign up for me here, then."

"Oh...we need a band name," Wide-Eyes said. "Any ideas?"

"I don't even know _your_ name," Sam said, joining their circle.

"Nathan," He shook her hand. "But you can call me Nate,"

"Nice to meet you, Nate," She turned to the boy in her forensics class. "You're in forensics with me, but I don't remember your name..."

"It's T-Tarlton. Tarlton Northcliffe Jr." He shuffled awkwardly under her gaze, his eyes planted on his shuffling feet. He was taller than her, but shorter than Nate. His hair fell in wispy brown curls against his forehead, which he swiped quickly away.

Sam blinked. "Well that's an unfortunate name," She said. His head whipped up. He grinned. She grinned back.

"I'm David." The last boy said. He was about the same height as Sam. He was muscular, but not meaty. His hair, which was closely cropped to his head, was a dirty blonde. His grip was firm on hers as they shook hands. "I've heard a lot about you, Sam Manson." His green eyes flashed.

"I'm gonna assume that's a good thing," Sam said, pointing at him with her free hand. He mirrored her movements with a grin. "So...what are we gonna call ourselves?"

They were silent, their faces thoughtful. Sam's thoughts switched sporatically to a book she was reading, Ivey and the Airship. The genre._ Steampunk_.

"How about...Steampunk?" She said timidly. Their faces lit up.

"I love that!" David said. "Steampunk! Sounds deadly!"

"It's actually a book genre," Sam admitted. "But it sounds kick-ass enough to be name of a band," She shrugged. "I know I'd listen to it, and I don't even like music."

A strange look crossed David's face as the words left her mouth.

"Alright, Steampunk it is," Mr. Lancer said, Sam tore her gaze away from David's and found Mr. Lancer, who was grinning like an idiot. "You will audition at 6 o'clock next Friday evening. Practice hard,"

* * *

><p>"We'll need to find a place to practice, first," Sam said as they gathered outside of the auditorium doors. "My house has plenty of room, if you guys want to meet there. We should start tonight."<p>

They were all agreeing with her eagerly. "Okay, so...here...is my...address..." She scribbled her address on the backs of each of their hands quickly. "Go home, get your instruments, and meet back there. Okay?"

"Okay," They replied in usion. _Easy enough._

_Now...if only making music was this easy..._

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, you're finished reading. GO TO YOUTUBE AND WATCH STRAIGHT NO CHASER. I am DETERMINED to educate you readers in the ways of music. I will introduce you to the loves of my life if you wish.<strong>

**STRAIGHT NO CHASER IS RIGHT THERE AT THE TOP OF THE LIST OF THE LOVES OF MY LIFE.**

**I'm not sure who's number one. Probably a tie between Adele and the cast of Glee.**

**WOAH. WOAH. CHILL OUT. Glee has some kick-ass covers. The acting, the plot line...eh. The music...yes please. Darren Criss...**

**FUTURE FREAKING HUSBAND. GTFO MY WAY, CHRIS COLFER. HE'S MINE.**

**Anyways.**

**I will educate you.**

**Worry not. (:**

**Thank you for reading! :D**

**- Tori**


	4. Marry Me

**Chapter four (:**

**I'm super pumped about where this is going. Hehe.**

**Oh, and just so you know, the major major plot twist I had originally planned for this story has been removed. As I was thinking about it, I realized it was a little implausible. So I replaced it with Elliot :D**

**Oh Elliot. What a derp.**

**Disclaimers. Right. I don't own Danny Phantom, _Marry Me_ by Train, or iTunes. Hehe.**

**Well, I guess I own iTunes. It's on my laptop. I have my playlist that I designed for this story on there. But I don't own the company that created iTunes.**

**Man, even my OC's disclaim in this chapter. Hahaha.**

**Love it.**

**I'm gonna talk about something a little more serious down at the footnote. A topic that this chapter brushes. You'll see.**

**Until then!**

**Enjoy (:**

* * *

><p><strong>All Around Us<strong>

**Chapter Four: **Marry Me

**January 5, 2012**

* * *

><p><em>You can't stay the same. If you're a musician and a singer, you have to change, that's the way it works.<em>

_- Van Morrison_

* * *

><p>"Mom! What the <em>hell<em> is this?" Sam shouted across the house. She was standing in what used to be a rather large guest bedroom, all of whose furniture had been removed and replaced by a single, shining black grand piano.

"Don't you just _love_ it? It's just gorgeous!" Her mother cooed when she appeared behind Sam's shoulder. "We never used that old bedroom anyways, so I decided to turn it into a music room!"

"But _no_ one in this family does _anything_ involving music," Sam growled through clenched teeth.

"That's not what Mr. Lancer told me earlier when he called here," Mrs. Manson sang teasingly.

Sam whipped her head around sharply at her mother's words. _"What?"_ She shrieked. "He _called_ here?"

"Well, yes. He said it's protocol for anyone trying out for Battle of the Bands to get a phone call home reminding you of the rules. Speaking of which, he told me to tell you that there are only a few rules: all music produced during your each round of auditions and the actual competition performance have to be live, the only people who can perform during any performance have to be members of your band, and...um...there was one more..."

"Mom, mom, _mom!_" Sam cried, plugging her ears with her fingers and closing her eyes. "I don't need to know any of this! I know it already! Stop it before someone hears you," She glanced at the walls nervously. She had an inkling of a feeling that Danny could be hidden there, invisibly stalking her to see why she wasn't at her car right after school. That was where they met on Wednesday afternoons instead of the Nasty Burger. Sam, of course, had failed to show up, choosing to hide in the girl's bathroom until she was sure the boys had gone, when she snuck out to her car to hide even more.

"Calm down, dear," Her mother said, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "It's not like anyone can hear us all the way up here!"

"That's what you think," Sam grumbled under her breath. "Listen, mom, some...um...the rest of my...band...is coming over in a few minutes. Will you let them in when they get here?"

"Certainly," Mrs. Manson said cheerfully. "Oh! I remember the last rule! If you're going to add any new members to your group, it has to be done before your first audition. After that, no one else can join." Sam rolled her eyes when her mother had turned to walk away before bounding up the stairs to her second-floor bedroom. She fumbled around the underside of her desk until her fingers made contact with a button Tucker had installed. She pressed the button and heard a faint whir as the ghost sheild around her house kicked to life._ That should keep Danny out,_ she thought with a satisfied smirk.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you haven't told anyone how rich you are," Nate murmured in disbelief.<p>

"I can. And I can also believe that none of you will tell anyone. Because if you do, you're short a lead singer. And I will make it a point to sneak into your bedrooms in the dead of night and saw off your favorite body part." Sam said threateningly.

The three boys' eyes widened. "We won't tell a soul," David said humbly.

"Okay...so..." Sam started awkwardly. David, Nate, and Tarlton were all gathered in her music room. Sam was settled on the piano bench, Nate behind a make-shift drum set, David clutching an electric guitar that was plugged into the most ancient amplifier Sam had ever seen, and Tarlton was nervously toeing the case of his bass guitar, which he had yet to open. "What are we gonna do for our first audition?"

"I dunno," Nate shrugged. "Tarl, take your bass out."

Tarlton immediately stooped beside his guitar case and tore his guitar out. He straightened up and slung the strap over his shoulder, letting the bass rest against his hip. He shuffled his feet nervously.

Sam watched him, a single eyebrow raised. "Tarlton...why are you so nervous?"

"Huh? Me? Nervous? Heh, no, I'm not nervous. I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not nervous." He repeated. He blinked for a moment before brushing his curls out of his eyes again.

"O..._kay_," Sam shook her head. "Ideas?"

"Well we should see what we're all capable of first," David suggested. There were nods and murmurs of agreement. "Shall I start?"

"Go right ahead," Sam gestured.

He settled back on the amplifier, using the box like a stool. He unplugged his guitar and began to strum a fairly complicated, but repetitive melody. "I'm not the best singer, so, bear with me," He said over his strumming.

_"Forever could never be long enough for me_  
><em>To feel like I've had long enough with you<em>  
><em>Forget the world now we won't let them see<em>  
><em>But there's one thing left to do<em>

_Now that the weight has lifted_  
><em>Love has surely shifted my way<em>

_Marry me_  
><em>Today and every day<em>  
><em>Marry me<em>  
><em>If I ever get the nerve to say 'hello' in this cafe<em>  
><em>Say you will<em>  
><em>Mmm<em>  
><em>Say you will<em>  
><em>Mmm<em>

_Together could never be close enough for me_  
><em>To feel like I am close enough to you<em>  
><em>You wear white and I'll wear out the words 'I love you'<em>  
><em>And 'you're beautiful'<em>  
><em>Now that the wait is over<em>  
><em>Love has finally shown her my way<em>

_Marry me_  
><em>Today and every day<em>  
><em>Marry me<em>  
><em>If I ever get the nerve to say 'hello' in this cafe<em>  
><em>Say you will<em>  
><em>Mmm<em>  
><em>Say you will<em>  
><em>Mmm<em>

_Promise me_  
><em>You'll always be<em>  
><em>Happy by my side<em>  
><em>I promise to<em>  
><em>Sing to you<em>  
><em>When all the music dies<em>

_And marry me_  
><em>Today and every day<em>  
><em>Marry me<em>  
><em>If I ever get the nerve to say 'hello' in this cafe<em>  
><em>Say you will<em>  
><em>Mmm<em>  
><em>Say you will<em>  
><em>Mmm<em>  
><em>Marry me<em>  
><em>Mmm,"<em>

David strummed one last chord, his eyes locked with Sam's. And in that instant, Sam realized something. David blushed a deep, solid beet red as he registered the realization in Sam's eyes. _Don't,_ his eyes begged.

She didn't. She joined with Nate and Tarlton as they applauded him, and he beamed and bowed theatrically.

"That was amazing!" Nate shouted.

"Thanks," David grinned appreciatively.

"Did you write that?" Tarlton asked eagerly, forgetting to shuffle his feet.

"Nah. That, my dear bass guitarist, was all Train." David waved his hand over his head. "I just borrowed,"

"It sounded really good," Sam grinned. David gave her a hesitant smile. _Please, please, please, please_, his eyes whispered.

She smiled and just barely shook her head. His smile grew wider.

"Me next!" Nate called. "I don't really have a song...just a few rips," He laughed nervously. "Okay, here goes nothing..."

He was impressive. The drum sticks in his hands were mere brown blurs as they flew over the battered drums, producing fast, deafening beats. He was breathing heavily when he finished, his glasses flashing excitedly in response to their excited applause.

_"Wow!"_ David laughed. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I dunno," Nate shrugged. "Been doing it as long as I can remember,"

"Kicked ass, man," Sam saluted him. "Tarlton?"

Tarlton gulped. "I don't really know any bass guitar solos," He admitted in a hushed voice. "I just pick along to songs I hear on the radio sometimes,"

"So play a song you know," Sam suggested. He winced at the sound of her voice, but did as she suggested. He picked along at a slow, steady pace. The other two boys began to nod their heads along with the beat, while Sam merely watched in facination. She caught David staring at her. He looked away quickly, trying to appear absorbed in Tarlton's bass playing.

_How could I have not noticed before...I thought I had such a good radar for that kind of thing!_ Sam thought as she continued watching David. _It's_ so _obvious now..._

"That was _great!_" David said enthusiastically when Tarlton had finished. Tarlton blushed and shuffled his feet without meeting David's gaze. He muttered a thank you.

"Sam?" Nate said. The three boys turned to look at her.

"I, um, don't really know much music at all, actually," Sam admitted. "I used to take piano lessons, but that was three years ago when I quit,"

"Well do you know how to read music?" David asked. She nodded. "Then go get a piano book or something. We can go to the music store a few blocks away and pick one up right now, if you want,"

"Sure, okay," Sam said unenthusiastically. She stood.

"Um, Sam? Can I talk to you in private for a minute?" David asked. Nate and Tarlton immediately turned and left, Nate closing the door with a soft click behind them.

"What's up?" She asked, trying to look unconcerned.

"Listen...I...um...I know you know," He whispered, stepping closer to her.

"Know what?" She denied.

"You know I'm gay," He whispered.

"Really?" She tried to act suprised. She just sounded sarcastic. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're right. I know. I won't tell anyone,"

"You won't?" He looked genuinely suprised. She nodded earnestly. A wave of relief crossed his face; Sam could visibly see his muscles relaxing. "Oh, thank you! I haven't officially...you know..._come out_ yet. I'm not planning on it anytime soon, especially not in this school," He looked haunted for a moment as his mind slipped into the alternate universe where their merciless school knew of his darkest secret. He shook his head vigorously. "You don't...you know...you're not a homophobe, are you?"

"Nah," Sam said, smiling at him. "You're still a human being. No change there,"

"I'm so glad you recognize that," He said. "Most people, straight men especially, act like I have the plague when they figure it out. That's why I've avoided telling people at school if I can help it, not everyone is as open-minded as you."

She smiled and patted his arm reassuringly. "Trust me, I don't care at all. When I look at you, I see kick-ass guitar player. That's all I'll ever see."

"I'm gonna assume that's a good thing," He teased, pointing at her the way she pointed at him when they first met. She grinned. "Alright, let's go, Manson. We've gotta get you to a music store, stat. When we get back, remind me to burn you a CD for you to rip onto your iPod tomorrow,"

"I don't have an iPod."

"...oh my God. My poor deprived child. Fear not, I shall show you the light!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulder with one arm, and with his other he extended his index finger into the air as if he had just discovered the cure to cancer. Sam laughed as he dragged her out of the room, his finger still held aloft.

* * *

><p>"There, your iTunes account is all set up," Tarlton said, swiveling back from Sam's laptop. She sat up on her bed, gazing at the screen.<p>

"And here is my gift to you, celebrating the fact that you, a seventeen-year-old female, is _just_ now getting her _first_ iPod!" David said cheerfully. He slid a silver disc into the CD port. Several songs popped up on the screen. He dragged them over to a folder on the side of the screen. "Your job is to listen to these. Study them. Live them. Breathe them. They are your life now,"

Sam grimaced. "I don't know if I have enough time to listen to all those all the time," She said, her eyes scanning over the list. "That's a _lot_ of songs,"

"Sixteen songs are not considered 'a lot of songs,'" David said without glancing back at her.

"For real," Nate chortled. Sam shot him a disdainful glare, which he shrank beneath. "Sorry,"

She glanced at the clock on her wall. It read 8:45 PM. Danny would be sick with worry, she knew it. He was probably pacing the floor of his room at that exact moment, alternating between sending her texts demanding to know what was wrong and calling her. She gulped.

"Alright, I'll take care of it," She said quickly.

"You have the piano books?" David asked, turning to look at her.

"Yep, in the piano room downstairs," She nodded. "I'm sorry, I'm supposed to meet someone at nine..."

"Oh, we'll get out of your hair, then," David said. The three stood, murmuring their goodbyes to Sam. She returned them, walking them down the stairs and to her front door with a promise to see them all tomorrow.

She raced back to her room and dived onto her bed, digging her phone up from her window sill. She was right; she had about thirty text messages and fifteen missed calls from Danny and Tucker combined. Most of them being from Danny.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about that, I couldn't find my phone. It was out in my car, duh," Sam said when she returned Danny's calls.

"Good, I thought something really bad had happened to you. I was about to fly over there to check on you. Where were you after school today?" Danny asked.

"Oh, I, uh...I had to stay behind and ask Mrs. Dominguez a question about this new forensics project she just assigned," Sam said quickly.

"Ah. What's the project?"

_Shit!_ "Oh...Well it's a group project, for one," Sam said quickly. "We have to pick a serial killer and reconstruct two of their murder scenes. And then we have to write a paper analyzing the psychological motives for the serial killers to do whatever they did,"

"Sounds like something Jazz would be interested in," Danny laughed. "Well, cool. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, I was thinking something terrible had happened, like Skulker or Technus or Ember had gotten you or something,"

"Nah, I'm fine," Sam laughed nervously.

There was a scuffle on the other end of the line. Sam distinctly heard someone shout, _'Give it to me! Let me talk to her!'_ before Danny shouted: "Tucker! Get _off_ me!"

"Hi Sam!" Tucker's voice suddenly replaced Danny's. "You'll never guess what happened after school today!"

"Hey, Tuck. What happened?" Sam chuckled. She could still hear the faint noises of Danny struggling with Tucker; she guessed that Tucker was sitting on Danny, pinning the poor boy to Danny's bed.

"I asked Valerie out!"

"Again? Tucker, when are you finally gonna gi-"

"She said yes!"

"She_ did?"_ Sam gasped. _"Really?_ Well, congatulations! Man, that's awesome!"

"Yeah! Now all you have to do is start dating Elliot, and Danny can date Paulina, and then we can all have girlfriends and boyfriends!" Tucker laughed. Before Sam could retort, she heard a huge scuffle. Tucker grunted and shouted indignantly. Danny must have finally gotten free.

"I'm gonna have to call you back, Sam. Tucker just asked me to kick his ass." There was a pause. "Yeah? Well I'm gonna kick it anyways!" Danny shouted. "See you tomorrow Sam!"

"Goodnight," Sam laughed. The line went dead.

Sam glanced at her computer screen. Her iTunes was still pulled up, staring her in the face. She glanced at the title of the first song: Born This Way. Someone named Lady Gaga.

"Gross." Sam muttered. She closed her laptop and climbed into bed._ Just get through this, Sam, and you're home free. Penn State, here I come!_

* * *

><p><em>You can't stay the same. If you're a musician and a singer, you have to change, that's the way it works.<em>

_- Van Morrison_

* * *

><p><strong>Alright.<strong>

**David is gay.**

**Let me explain.**

**I didn't just randomly decide to make him gay. There is a good reason behind it. In fact, the plot line kind of hinges on David being gay. If you are reading this and you were offended by _ANYTHING _I said, I am genuinely sorry. I meant no harm.**

**I am not a homophobe. I'm not gay, but I have gay friends. I love them all dearly.**

**JUST LIKE I LOVE YOU :D**

**Oh, and I don't think Train's gay, either. I don't know if he is. I don't think so. But you never know.**

**I'm gonna quit talking about that now.**

**So, yeah. That's my latest chapter. I think I'm gonna go write the last chapter to _Darkness _now to get that out of the way.**

**Oh..._oh._ I just got a new idea. A new story is forming in my overactive little mind.**

**I CAN'T KEEP UP WITH ALL THESE PLOT BUNNIES.**

**GAH.**

**Well, thank you for reading!**

**Love you my darlings!**

**:D**

**- Tori**


	5. Not Some Stupid Bimbo Singer

**Alright, alright.**

**I'm back.**

**I'm sorry D':**

**It's taken me a while, but I think I'm back in the groove of things. Kind of.**

**Anyways.**

**I challenged myself to have this story and the others that are incomplete to be updated by my birthday.**

**Which was on the fourth.**

**...obviously, I failed.**

**Majorly.**

**So as an apology, I started yet another chapter fic.**

**Probably going to end up being my longest one yet.**

**But, you're here to read this story, not my other stories.**

**Sooooo here's chapter five. I hope you guys enjoy it and I hope you can forgive me for my terribly long absence.**

***sigh* I don't own Danny Phantom.**

**All Around Us**

**Chapter Five: **Not Some Stupid Bimbo Singer

**August 7, 2012**

* * *

><p><em>Music is very spiritual, it has the power to bring people together.<em>  
><em>- Edgar Winter<em>

* * *

><p>When Sam arrived at school the following morning, she was momentarily surprised that Tucker was not waiting for her in the parking lot. But the surprise quickly wore off when she realized that Valerie's car was parked beside Tucker's yet again; the new couple must be inside the school already, she thought. She got her backpack out of her trunk and was just swinging the door shut when Danny appeared beside her.<p>

"Hey," He grinned, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Hey, yourself," Sam grunted. She was exhausted; she had suffered from several nightmares that night, most of them involving Battle of the Bands and Elliot.

Concern flashed across Danny's face. "You okay?" He asked, his brows knit together as they walked toward the school.

"M'fine," She said, choosing to look at the ground instead of at Danny. "Couldn't sleep worth a shit last night."

"Ah," Danny nodded. "I know the feeling."

"I kept having these stupid nightmares," Sam said before she could stop herself. From the corner of her eye, she could see his head whip around sharply, his eyes blazing. She'd had nightmares about ghost battles before. Danny hated it.

"What happened in them?" He asked as they climbed the steps to the doors of the school.

"Oh, um...ah...it was just...Ember and...Technus...they were fighting and they burned down the book store," She fabricated quickly, refusing to meet his eye. "Nobody got hurt or anything, they just burned down the bookstore before we could stop them."

Danny didn't believe her and she knew it. But he did not press the matter. He merely pressed his lips together and nodded. Sam noticed he was walking a bit closer to her than he usually did; he did this when he sensed she was uncomfortable. He believed she had terrible nightmares. Sam's heart did a little flip. Despite her jibes, she kind of liked it when Danny was overprotective. But only kind of.

Mercifully, Tucker appeared moments later, effectively ending the discussion of her nightmares. Danny kept his close proximity, though, and Sam braced herself for the lovebird comments Tucker would surely hurl their direction. But Tucker was too preoccupied with texting Valerie to even notice.

They entered their homeroom in silence, Tucker's face buried in his cell phone, Danny close behind Sam. She swore she could feel his hand on her backpack. When they sat, Danny kept one arm on her desk and continuously glanced back at her as if to assure himself that she was still in one piece. Sam sighed and began doodling in the margins of her paper, ignoring the feeling of Danny's eyes on her face. If this was what it took to keep him happy, then she'd let him fret.

"Good morning class," Mr. Lancer called when he walked in a few moments later. Danny turned his head to the front of the room but kept his arm on Sam's desk, elliciting a dramatic eye-roll from the girl. "I have a lot of preperations I still need to do for Battle of the Bands, so please feel free to take this period as a study hall opportunity."

A quiet buzz of conversation began as the other students turned to each other. Danny turned his body completely sideways and rested both of this elbows on Sam's desk. She looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Can I help you?" She asked.

"Whatcha drawing?" He asked. He took much more interest in her doodles ever since she had created the emblem on the chest of his ghostly self.

She splayed her hands across the paper, covering most of the doodles. "Nothing," She said a little too quickly.

Eyes. She had been drawing eyes. Danny's eyes, to be specific, but since she was doodling with a pencil, it could have been anyone's eyes. Eyes filled with joy. Eyes filled with pain. Emotions poured through the eyes. Danny scooped both of her wrists up in one hand, twisting the paper in his direction before Sam could stop him. She growled in protest, not wanting to scream and attract unwanted attention. She glanced at Tucker. He was completely absorbed in his cell phone.

"Whoa," Danny whispered. Sam yanked her hands out of his grasp and snatched the paper out of Danny's grasp. Danny leaned forward, his eyes following the paper into Sam's bag. "Those were really good!"

"Thanks." Sam grunted, sinking down in her chair.

"No, seriously, they were _good_. Have you looked into the art progr-"

"_No_, okay? I _haven't_ looked into the art program, I _haven't_ looked into the music program, I want to be a _psychologist_. Not some stupid _bimbo_ singer, not a _hobo_ who swears he's starving for his art, _a psychologist_." Sam's voice had risen considerably. She blinked and glanced around the room, which had suddenly fallen silent. Every eye was on hers, including Mr. Lancer's.

"Okay," Danny mumbled. He pulled his elbows off of her desk. "Sorry."

Sam sighed. She grabbed her backpack by the handle and shoved her way up the aisle and out of the room without a word. She jogged to the girl's bathroom.

She kicked the door open and sighed in relief when she found the room to be empty. Slowly, she shuffled to one of the mirrors. She leaned against the sink, dropping her backpack by her feet, and braced her hands on either side of the sink. She was pale; it was obvious she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. She touched a single dark circle beneath one of her eyes, grimacing as she did.

Sam did not look around when the bathroom door opened. Most people at her school were afraid of her because she was so different, so she was accustomed to girls giving her plenty of space in the bathroom. Why would it be any different this time?

"Hey, Sam," a familiar voice said. Sam looked around and spotted Valerie, who was smiling a bit sheepishly at her.

"Hey," Sam said, stepping away from the mirror.

"I won't lie...Tucker asked me to come check on you. Is everything okay?" Valerie asked gently, taking a step closer. Sam cringed.

"I'm fine," Sam lied. "I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Valerie nodded. "Yeah, I know how that feels," She said, chuckling a little. Sam had to close her eyes to avoid rolling them at Valerie; Sam knew exactly how Valerie knew.

"Congratulations, by the way," Sam offered, eager to change the subject. Valerie beamed. "I know how much Tucker likes you, so...uh, yeah,"

"Thank you," Valerie said. "I've liked him for a while now too, I was really hoping he'd ask me out again soon..." She chuckled, obviously lost in the memory. Sam smiled in spite of herself. "Sorry," Valerie laughed, shaking her head vigerously. "So you're alright?"

"I will be," Sam sighed. "I just need sleep,"

Valerie nodded. "You think you can make it through today without dying?"

Sam laughed appreciatively, walking beside Valerie to the door of the bathroom. "We'll see," She chortled as the bell rang for first period.

* * *

><p>Sam did not see either Danny or Tucker again until lunch. By then, she was in a considerably better mood, having slept for fifteen minutes in her calculus class. Luckily, Tucker was not in the cafeteria when Sam got there; she spotted Danny sitting in his usual place, picking moodily at his pizza.<p>

"Hey, listen, about what happened during home room..." Sam said as she slid into the seat across from Danny. Danny looked up at her, confusion in his eyes. She hesitated. "I...yelled at you, remember?"

"Oh!" Danny said, dropping his pizza on his plate.

"Yeah...I'm really sorry, I just didn't get hardly any sleep last night and I was in a terrible mood, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm sorry." Sam batted her eyes at him playfully, earning a snort from her best friend.

"I figured as much, no harm done," Danny shrugged, flashing his signature crooked grin at her. "I was more worried about you than anything else,"

Sam rolled her eyes and waived his attention off. "Nothing to worry about," She smiled, pulling her salad out of the depths of her backpack. "Is that why you were so tense when I walked in?"

Danny's expression darkened. "No," He muttered, dropping his gaze back to his pizza. Sam froze, the plastic lid of her salad held aloft.

"What?" She asked nervously. "Vlad?"

"No, no ghosts," Danny said quickly, glancing up at her through his hair. "Just...before you got in here -"

"Sam!" A voice cried from behind her. She whirled around, dropping the lid of her salad on the table. Elliot was sauntering toward her, grinning in what she guessed was supposed to be an alluring smile. She immediately thought of a hyena circling its' prey. He slid into the seat on Sam's right, completely ignoring Danny. "Have you given my offer any more thought?"

"Yes. It gave me nightmares." Sam spat. She glanced at Danny. Every muscle in the boy's body was tensed; he was poised to lunge across the table and rip Elliot's throat out at any given moment.

Elliot threw his head back and laughed loudly, drawing stares from the students in the near vicinity. Silence was beginning to ripple across the cafeteria. Sam swallowed hard.

"You're hilarious," Elliot said, wiping dramatically at his eyes. "But seriously, your last chance to sign up is Friday."

"I don't think she's interested, dude," A voice called. Sam looked over Elliot's shoulder and felt her heart drop. David had appeared. He was standing a few feet behind Elliot, his arms crossed over his chest. Anger twisted his face.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Elliot asked, lowering his sunglasses further down his nose. David bared his teeth at him.

"Elliot, get out." Sam growled. She stood and seized David by his upper arms. "Come with me." She muttered, dragging him out of the cafeteria while trying to ignore the gawking stares of the rest of the students. She waited until they were in a completely deserted hallway before turning on her heel to face him. "What were you thinking?" She demanded.

"I was about to tell him that you're already in a band, so he can shove it!" David said, his hands on his hips. "Why did you stop me?"

"Because Danny doesn't know I'm in a band." Sam muttered through clenched teeth. "And I don't have any intention of telling him. Not yet, at least."

David gaped at her. "Isn't he your best friend?" He asked when he recovered.

"Yes, and I have a well-known reputation of hating music. I'm not ready for that to change."

"Seriously?" David asked, his voice raising in incredulity. "That's so stupid, why don't you just -"

"Tell someone?" Sam finished, raising her eyebrows emphatically. David paled.

"That's different." He muttered. "That's my entire life we're talking about, not something as stupid as whether or not you like music..."

"For me, hating music is a big part of my life. For as long as Danny and Tucker have known me, I've hated music. I don't back off of my beliefs. This is just as important to me as yours is to you."

David huffed. "What are you gonna tell them when we have to have rehearsals?" He demanded.

"I told them I'm in a group project for Forensics. That's my excuse."

"And when they see you at Battle of the Bands?"

Sam swallowed. She hadn't thought that far ahead yet. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it." She muttered. "Please, David. I'm keeping your secret. I'm trusting you to keep mine."

David eyed her a moment longer before sighing and nodding. "Fine, I'll keep your stupid secret." He grumbled. Sam beamed.

When she returned to the lunch room, it appeared that everything had returned to normal. Elliot was nowhere to be seen, and conversations had broken back out among the other students. Danny was still sitting exactly where Sam had left him, jiggling his leg restlessly. He glanced over his shoulder as she approached, and sat up straighter when he recognized her.

"Sorry," She muttered as she sat back down. She noticed Danny's eyes were following someone; she followed his gaze and saw he was watching David reclaiming his seat. When she looked back around, however, she found that Danny had eyes for no one but her.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, his voice hushed. Sam nodded. "Who is that guy?" Danny asked, nodding in David's direction.

"One of my partners for that forensics project I was telling you about," She lied smoothly, ripping the plastic packaging off of her fork and spearing a large mouthful of spinach leaves into her mouth.

Danny grunted, watching her eat. "What the hell is Elliot's problem, anyway?" He grumbled. "Can he not take a hint?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess he likes to think I'm playing hard to get," She said, examining a spinach leaf.

Danny hmphed and picked up his pizza again. "I'll deck him next time he comes near you, just say the word."

Sam glanced up and found Danny staring at David again. She gulped.

_This is gonna be a bit harder than I thought._

* * *

><p><em>Music is very spiritual, it has the power to bring people together.<em>  
><em>- Edgar Winter<em>


	6. That's What You Get

**Alrighty, here's chapter six.**

**Sorry I'm updating semi-late-ish today. I woke up at 10:30 AM this morning and just could not get into the writing mood until a couple hours ago. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations for this chapter.**

**It's short. Unsettlingly so. But I just couldn't get inspired to write anything more and the story sort of found its' own natural stopping point and I didn't want to fight it, so...yeah.**

**About the song lyrics...if they're wrong, please let me know. I was literally typing the song out as I listened to it, so there's a very real possibility that what I have written is completely wrong.**

**But, hey, if you notice a typo, please be nice about it. I'm having one of those days. Gimme a break.**

**Okay. I don't own Danny Phantom or anything else you recognize in this chapter.**

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the latest installment of All Around Us.**

**Wow, that was lame.**

* * *

><p><strong>All Around Us<strong>

**Chapter Six:** That's What You Get

**August 20, 2012**

* * *

><p><em>One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.<em>  
><em>- Bob Marley<em>

* * *

><p>When Sam arrived home from school, she sprinted up the stairs and activated the ghost shield. The boys - <em>the band,<em> she thought disparagingly - was due over in ten minutes. Sam dumped her backpack on her bed and extracted her phone from her pocket just as she recieved a text. From Danny.

_**Where are you?**_

Sam grimaced. She had run straight out of gym to the parking lot, peeling out of her parking space and racing home before Danny and Tucker even had a chance to get out of their last classes. She bit her lip guiltily and shoved her phone in the drawer of her desk. _I'll talk to him later_, she thought.

A distant knock at the door jolted her out of her thoughts. She shook her head and dashed out of her room, bounding down the stairs and just barely beating her butler to the door. She yanked it open and smiled at David, who was examining the brass knocker in the center of her door. Tarlton and Nate stood just behind David; Nate appeared to be messing with Tarlton. They all looked up, however, when Sam opened the door.

"Hey," She said, stepping aside as they traipsed in. She glanced out in the street after Tarlton dragged his bass in, looking both ways for any sign of Tucker's car. She felt a wave of reassurance at her lack of findings, and closed the door. She paused, staring at the doorknob thoughtfully, before locking it.

The boys were already in the music room, David and Tarlton setting up their guitars, Nate twirling a drum stick between his fingers absently.

"Alright, we still have a lot to do before the first audition," David said as Sam closed the door to the music room. She turned and raised an eyebrow. "We still have to practice and figure out what song we're even doing."

"Oh. Right." Sam shook her head, crossing the room and taking her place on the piano bench. "So."

It was David's turn to arch an eyebrow at Sam. "Do _they_ know?" He asked, nodding to Nate and Tarlton.

"Do we know what?" Nate asked curiously. The drumstick flipped out of his hand and landed with a muffled thump on the thickly carpeted floor. Sam paid no attention, though; she was busy glaring feircely at David.

"Nothing." She muttered. "Let's just get this over with."

"That. Do they know that you 'hate music'?" He punctuated the last two words with air-quotes. Nate and Tarlton whipped their heads toward her, mouths agape in shock.

"Is that true?" Nate asked incredulously.

"You hate music?" Tarlton asked in disbelief, forgetting to be nervous again.

Sam felt her nostrils flaring. She exhaled through her nose noisily. "Does it matter?" She asked sharply, flipping a piano book open with an excess amount of force. "That's not what this is about, is it? I'm doing this for extra credit. I want to get into Penn State, and that ain't gonna happen unless I have an A average. An A average ain't gonna happen unless I get extra credit in Lancer's. Extra credit in Lancer's ain't gonna happen unless we win this stupid contest." She crossed her arms defiantly, avoiding Nate and Tarlton's gazes. "Besides, you're the _last person_ that should be talking about being honest with people."

David, much to Sam's disbelief, shrugged. "They know I'm gay." He said dismissively. "I told them earlier. Turns out, they don't care."

Sam narrowed her eyes at Nate and Tarlton. "Traitors," She muttered under her breath.

"How can you hate music?" Nate asked, ignoring her anger. Sam looked down at the keys of the piano, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Music is...it's amazing. I just...I don't understand."

"It's not that hard to understand, music just gets on my nerves." Sam said shortly, glancing up at the ceiling. _Maybe this was a mistake_, she thought miserably.

"You've been listening to the wrong kind of music, then." Tarlton said quietly. Sam met his gaze. "Yeah, okay. Some music is terrible. Most of the popular music is awful. But I don't know anyone who sits through Clair de Lune and says that it's awful at the end. I don't know anyone that listens to Asphalt Cocktail and isn't in complete awe at the end of it. It just doesn't happen."

"Have you ever heard a Panic! At The Disco song?" Nate asked, apparently unphazed by the sudden conviction in Tarlton's tone. "They paint such vivid pictures with their lyrics..."

"You've been jaded," David said softly. Sam blinked, unable to form a coherent argument against them. "You've got to give music a chance. Who knows...you might end up falling in love."

Sam clenched her jaw. Anger washed through her. She almost let them talk her into it. _Almost_.

"This is for my future at Penn State." She spat. David recoiled. "I do not, nor will I _ever_, like music. Get used to it."

David stared at her blindly, his fingers tightening around the neck of his guitar. He glanced at Nate.

"I think it's time we show Sam that song." Nate's eyes widened, but he nodded. He pulled his phone out and handed it to David, who began tapping at the touch screen. Sam sighed impatiently, glancing at the clock. They'd already lost ten minutes of rehearsal time.

She froze, however, when a particularly loud and furious guitar chord ripped through the tiny speaker of Nate's phone. David smirked at her and sat the phone on the piano before her, nodding his head to the beat of the choppy chords and pulsating drum beat. Sam felt her mouth drop open at the sound. It was unlike anything she ever heard before. Her heart leapt in her chest as a female voice began to sing:

_"No sir,_  
><em>Well I don't wanna be the blame <em>  
><em>Not anymore,<em>  
><em>It's your turn <em>  
><em>To take a seat we're settling <em>  
><em>The final score<em>

_And why do we like to hurt so much_

_I can't decide _  
><em>You have made it harder just <em>  
><em>To go on <em>  
><em>And why-hy <em>  
><em>Oh the possibilities <em>  
><em>Well I was wrong<em>

_That's what you get _  
><em>When you let your heart win <em>  
><em>Whoa oh oh-oh oh,<em>  
><em>That's what you get <em>  
><em>When you let your heart win <em>  
><em>Whoa oh oh oh <em>  
><em>I drowned out all my sense with <em>  
><em>The sound of its beating <em>  
><em>And that's what you get <em>  
><em>When you let your heart win <em>  
><em>Whoa oh oh oh."<em>

The guitar ripped again, drums tearing up the silence and beating into Sam's eardrums. She glance up at David to find him smirking at her, and realized with a jolt that her mouth was still hanging open. She snapped it shut as the girl began to sing again.

_"I wonder _  
><em>How am I supposed to feel <em>  
><em>When you're not here <em>  
><em>'Cause I burned <em>  
><em>Every bridge I ever built <em>  
><em>When you were here <em>  
><em>I still try <em>  
><em>Holding on to silly things <em>  
><em>I never learn <em>  
><em>Oh why-hy <em>  
><em>All the possibilities <em>  
><em>I'm sure you've heard<em>

_That's what you get _  
><em>When you let your heart win <em>  
><em>Whoa oh oh-oh oh,<em>  
><em>That's what you get <em>  
><em>When you let your heart win <em>  
><em>Whoa oh oh oh <em>  
><em>I drowned out all my sense with <em>  
><em>The sound of its beating <em>  
><em>And that's what you get <em>  
><em>When you let your heart win <em>  
><em>Whoa oh oh oh<em>

_Pain, make your way to me, to me _  
><em>And I'll always be just so inviting <em>  
><em>If I ever start to think straight <em>  
><em>This heart will start a riot in me,<em>  
><em>Let's start,<em>  
><em>Start, hey!<em>

_Why do we like to hurt so much_  
><em>Oh why do we like to hurt so much?<em>

_That's what you get when you let your heart win,_  
><em>Whoa oh oh oh<em>

_That's what you get _  
><em>When you let your heart win <em>  
><em>Whoa oh oh-oh oh <em>  
><em>That's what you get <em>  
><em>When you let your heart win <em>  
><em>Whoa oh oh oh <em>  
><em>Now I can't trust myself with <em>  
><em>Anything but this <em>  
><em>And that's what you get <em>  
><em>When you let your heart win <em>  
><em>Whoa oh oh oh-ho."<em>

The song ended with a resonating guitar chord. Sam blinked in shock. Her heart was thundering in her chest, adrenaline pumping through her veins. The song was fast-paced, the lyrics far more meaningful than any song Sam had ever heard. Not to mention...it was kind of punk-rock. Sam bit her lip. She liked the song. She really, _really_ liked it.

"That's just the beginning." David said, snatching the phone from the piano and tossing it back to Nate. "There are literally thousands of songs out there like that one. Songs with meaning. Not just pop songs written for the soul purpose of getting stuck in your head."

Sam closed her eyes and nodded. "Okay." She said, sitting up a bit straighter and looking at each of the boys in the eye. "Okay, you've got my attention."

"Excellent." David grinned.

* * *

><p><em>One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.<em>  
><em>- Bob Marley<em>

* * *

><p><strong>List of songs mentioned in this chapter that are worth checking out:<strong>

**1. Clair de Lune (but I'm pretty sure everybody knows this song. It's fairly famous)**

**2. Asphalt Cocktail (it'll take you directly to the streets of New York City, I swear)**

**3. Any song by Panic! At The Disco, but specifically The Ballad of Mona Lisa or Build God, Then We'll Talk**

**4. That's What You Get by Paramore**

**That's all for now, folks.**

**- Tori**


	7. Don't You Want Me?

**And now we have chapter seven.**

**I know I'm later than I have been on updating these things in the last few days, but hey. I had to wake up at 5 AM this morning. You're lucky you're getting an update at all. (:**

**This is much, MUCH longer than the last chapter. Just because I had so much fun writing this, I didn't want it to end. It's one of my favorite songs...like, ever. Never fails to make me smile. Or dance like a moron.**

**I really need to go to the bathroom, so I'm gonna call this an A/N and post it. For those of you waiting on tenterhooks for the next chapter of THLITE, I haven't even started writing it yet. But I predict it will be up before 10 PM. I write these very, very quickly. Can you deal?**

**Fantastic.**

**I don't own Danny Phantom or the song in this chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>All Around Us<strong>

**Chapter Seven: **Don't You Want Me?

**August 24, 2012**

* * *

><p>Sam was not one to scare easily. She was proud of her bravery and courage, secretly thinking herself to be just as brave as Danny. In different ways, of course. But when it came down to it, Sam was just as quick as Danny to jump into a potentially life-threatening situation, head-first. In fact, sometimes, she was quicker.<p>

So naturally, stage-fright never even entered her mind as a possibility. Until the moment came for her to open her mouth and sing in front of David, Tarlton, and Nate. It was a simple scale, do re mi, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. She froze, her eyes bulging, sudden fear rendering her mute. David stopped strumming his guitar and waved for the other two to stop as well.

"What's up?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"I can't," Sam whispered.

"Lancer said you're an amazing singer..."

"I didn't know Lancer was listening when I was singing then, not like I know you guys are listening now..." Sam twisted her fingers in her lap. Heat rose up her neck and flooded her cheeks.

David placed his hand on his hip, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Just say the scale, then." He said finally.

Sam cocked an eyebrow, but obliged. "Do re mi fa so la ti do." She mumbled.

"Good. Now sing them." He ordered.

"But -"

"Sing."

"I -"

"_Sing_!"

Sam sucked in a huge breath. "_Do re mi fa so la ti do_!" She sang quickly.

"Again."

"_Do re mi fa so la ti do_."

"One more time."

"_Do re mi fa so la ti do_."

"Again."

"You just said -"

"I lied, sing again."

Sam narrowed her eyes. "_Do re mi fa so la ti do_."

Tarlton was gazing at Sam sympathetically, as if he knew all too well what she felt at that moment. Nate, however, seemed impressed by her singing prowess. He was nodding enthusiastically, glancing spastically between Sam and David.

"You have stage-fright?" David asked, perching on the edge of his amplifier.

Sam shrugged. "I dunno, I guess. I've never been on stage performing before, so I don't know."

"You were scared to sing in front of us just now, though."

"Yeah." Sam said impassively.

David nodded. "I think I know something that might help you with that."

"What?"

"You'll see. You can drive, right?"

* * *

><p>"Oh no." Sam shook her head emphatically behind the wheel of her Mustang. David had directed her to the parking lot of a karaoke bar. "Karaoke? Are you kidding me?"<p>

"What, scared?" David taunted from the passanger's seat. "Is the big bad goth scared of a little karaoke?"

Sam ignored Nate's obnoxious snickering from the back seat. "Not scared. Just..."

David gave her a pointed look, before rolling his eyes. "One song, then we'll go. I swear." He said.

"You _just_ got me sort of into music, are you trying to scare me off with this?" Sam muttered. But she pulled her keys out of the ignition and shoved them forcefully into her purse. She shoved her car door open and lifted her seat, allowing Tarlton to squirm out of the back seat. She shot a dirty look over the top of her car at David as he pulled his seat up to let Nate out. David returned her glare with a smile.

"I'm absolutely not doing this by myself." Sam declared once inside. David waved his hand at her, glancing around for an empty booth.

"There, in the corner." He said over his shoulder to Sam. He began leading the way through the forest of tables, glancing back to check that Sam and the boys were still with him. Sam edged through the tables, apologizing to the other patrons for blocking their view of the stage at the front of the resteraunt, which was currently empty.

"Alright, you won't have to sing alone." David said once they were sitting. "I'll go up there with you. We'll do a duet."

Sam nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. "Thank you."

"But I pick the song." David grinned impishly.

Sam rolled her eyes. "It's not like I know any good ones anyways," She grumbled.

David shushed her. She glanced at the stage and saw a rather overweight woman not unlike the Lunch Lady in looks, jogging up the steps, laughing a little to herself. A table in the center of the resteraunt full of middle aged women, who Sam assumed were the woman's friends, were screaming fanatically. Sam grimaced.

Her grimaced deepened when the woman started a terrible rendition of Singing In The Rain. Sam gritted her teeth as the woman's voice cracked and hitched. Nevermind that the woman appeared to be having the absolute best time of her life; she was singing that _stupid_ song about _stupid_ people doing _stupid_ things. _Stupid,_ Sam seethed.

"Alright, no musicals," David muttered as the woman vacated the stage to the sounds of an uprorious applause.

"Thank you." Sam hissed through clenched teeth.

"Mhm," David grunted. He was scanning the list of songs carefully, looking only partially aware of what was going on around them. Sam turned back to the stage and nearly groaned at the thin man taking his place behind the microphone. His bald head was gleaming in the spotlight.

"Aw, come on." Nate said, leaning across the table to pat Sam's hands, which were clenched into fists. "It won't be that bad!"

Sam shot him a murderous glare and stared pointedly at her hands. Nate chortled, but drew his hands back. The man on stage started singing some older song Sam thought she might have heard her grandmother play once or twice. He wasn't bad, but he was definitely no Ember. He was okay.

David stood, a mischevious grin on his face. "I'll be right back." He declared, slipping off across the resteraunt without waiting for a reply. Sam watched him go, a wave of nausea passing through her stomach. She rubbed her face in her hands.

"Why did I ever let him talk me in to this?" She wondered aloud.

"It won't be that bad. Three minutes on stage, and we'll be outta here," Tarlton said soothingly. Sam grimaced at him. She was actually wondering why she allowed Lancer to talk her in to doing Battle of the Bands, but she felt guilty pointing it out to Tarlton. So she nodded, leaned back against the cushions of the booth, and tried not to think about what she was about to do.

"Hey, Sam, David's trying to get your attention," Nate said a moment later. Sam glanced at the end of the stage, where David was standing, waving her over frantically. She groaned.

"Here goes nothing," She muttered as she stood.

"We're doing a song called Don't You Want Me." David informed her when she was by his side. Sam felt her jaw drop. "Don't give me that look, it's a classic. And it's a duet. _And_ I sing first."

Sam swallowed the lump in her throat. "Don't You Want Me?" She repeated in a whisper.

"Yep." He grinned. "It's easy. I have the first verse, first and second bridge, and the main line of the chorus. You have chorus melody, second verse, you echo the second bridge, and you're harmony on the chorus all the way to the end."

Sam blinked. "I didn't understand _half_ of what you just said." She said dryly.

David rolled his eyes. "Just follow my lead and read what's on the screen." He said impatiently, joining in the clapping as the bald man on stage finished his song.

"Good luck!" The man called as he passed David and Sam on the stairs to the stage. David thanked him. Sam grimaced.

"Isn't this a song from the eighty's?" Sam whispered as they stepped on stage. David merely smiled at her, seizing an extra microphone and stand from the back of the stage. He set it up in front of her, tapping the reciever to ensure it was on. Sam winced at the thuds broadcasted over the speakers.

"Keep your eyes on me." He instructed quietly as he brought his microphone stand up beside Sam's. She gulped. The nerves were back.

David held her gaze as a heavy techno beat came over the speakers. He was tapping his foot to the beat, an easy smile on his face. Sam clenched her jaw, resisting a powerful urge to sprint off the stage.

But when David began to sing, she stopped. The people in the crowd disappeared, and for a moment, it was only Sam and David.

"_You were workin' as a waitress in a cocktail bar  
><em>_When I met you  
><em>_I picked you out, I shook you up, and turned you around  
><em>_Turned you into someone new.  
><em>_Now five years later on, you've got the world at your feet,  
><em>_Success has been so easy for you.  
><em>_But don't forget, it's me who put you where you are now  
><em>_And I can put you back down, too.  
><em>_Don't  
><em>_Don't you want me?  
><em>_You know I don't believe it when I hear that you won't see me_."

David nodded his head toward the screen. Sam glanced at it, and a flare of panic rose up in her belly. Her lines were approaching, and fast. She felt her eyes bulging as she glanced back at David, but he still had that calm, easy smile on his face. The panic subsided.

"_Don't  
><em>_Don't you want me?  
><em>_You know I don't believe it when you say that you don't need me."_

Sam closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and prayed that music would come out.

_"It's much too late to find,  
><em>_You think you've changed your mind?  
><em>_You better change it back or we won't work this out_."

Her eyes flew open. Her voice sounded choked, but still like her own. David was nodding encouragingly as their voices danced together, his grin widening. Sam thought she heard a distant "Woop!" in the corner, courtesy of Nate most likely.

"_Don't you want me baby?  
><em>_Don't you want me, oh-h-h-h?  
><em>_Don't you want me, baby?  
><em>_Don't you want me, oh-h-h-h?_"

Sam was hardly given a second to think before her verse began. "_I was workin' as a waitress in a cocktail bar,_" She smirked.

"_That much is true.  
><em>_But even then I knew I'd find a much better place,  
><em>_Either with or without you.  
><em>_The five years we have had have been such good times,_

_I still love you!_" She cried dramatically, stepping across the stage to place a mock-consoling hand on David's arm. He played along, pretending to cover fake tears with one hand.

"_But now I think it's time I live my life on my own,  
><em>_I guess it's just what I must do_."

David lunged toward her, dropping the microphone stand onto the stage with one hand, holding the microphone itself close to his lips. "_Don't,_" He sang gruffly.

"_Don't!_" Sam echoed, grinning at the difference in pitch between their voices.

"_Don't you want me?_" David demanded.

"_Don't you want me?_" Sam pouted.

"_You know I don't believe it when I hear that you won't see me,  
><em>_Don't_."

"_Don't!_" Sam cried again.

"_Don't you want me?_"

"_Don't you want me?_"

"_You know I don't believe it when you say that you don't need me,  
><em>_It's much too late to find,  
><em>_You think you've changed your mind,  
><em>_You'd better change it back or we won't work this out,  
><em>_Don't you want me, baby?  
><em>_Don't you want me, oh-h-h-h?  
><em>_Don't you want me, baby?  
><em>_Don't you want me, oh-h-h-h?_"

Sam laughed as David began echoing is own '_oh_' and dancing across the stage during the techno break. She felt herself letting go and loosening up; she twirled around, just to be caught in David's outstretched arms. She laughed and shoved him playfully on the chest.

"_Don't you want me baby?_" They sang together.

"_Don't you want me, oh-h-h-h?_

_Don't you want me, baby? Baby!_" Sam added to the end. David's eyebrows shot up. He nodded, obviously impressed.

"_Don't you want me, oh-h?_

_Don't you want me, baby? Baby-y,_" David added, smirking at Sam.

"_Don't you want me, oh-h?  
><em>_Don't you want me, baby? Oh-h,  
><em>_Don't you want me, oh-h-h-h?_

_Don't you want me, baby?_" They ended together, faces inches apart, grins wide and wild.

The crowd went insane. Sam jerked back, glancing over the people in shock. She forgot they were there, for a moment. She glanced at David, who was grinning and waving at the crowd. Sam followed his lead, though not as enthusiastically, until she spotted three figures standing by the front door, mouths open in shock.

Danny, Tucker, and Valerie seemed to have frozen by the front door upon entering the karaoke bar. Every single one of them was staring at Sam.

"_Shit_." Sam whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>Again, if you guys find any typos, please let me know. I don't have spell check. In fact, I don't have any editing tools on my preferred writing outlet.<strong>

**Livin' life on the edge, guys.**

**Just, when you point them out, don't be a jerk. No one likes a jerk.**

**Another life lesson, courtesy of me.**

**- Tori**


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